


Sin más ley que la esperanza

by florgi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: A bit of Argentinean slang, Buenos Aires in the 1920's, Immigrants, Italian!Leo, M/M, Spaniards!Kun and Gonzalo, this is quite gen tbh don't expect big love scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florgi/pseuds/florgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buenos Aires was a sea of gray buildings and gray people matching his own gray and miserable existence.</p><p>(Have you ever heard that basically half of argentina’s population are decendants of the immigrants that came to our country during the late 19th and early 20th century? They were mostly Spanish and Italian and you can see that reflected in our surnames, for example: Messi, Di María, Agüero, Higuaín, etc. Do you see were I'm coming from?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin más ley que la esperanza

**Author's Note:**

> Some argentinean slang and little bit of Spanish. All explained in the notes at the end.
> 
> Tittle from a tango I loved called "El choclo". It means something that "With no other law but hope". If you are curious I highly encourage you to watch and listen to the amazing Tita Merello performing it [xxxx](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3PKtEjNtP4)

Buenos Aires was a sea of gray buildings and gray people matching his own gray and miserable existence. The pavement freshly wet with the first drops of rain dimly reflected the lights of the few cars that circulate that part of the city. Lionel Messi adjusted his long coat better when a breath of cold wind hit his little frame. He looked around before stepping on the street and crossing it quickly. When he reached the other sidewalk he sighed and made the numbers: he still was six or seven blocks away from his  _conventillo_. Lionel felt the disappointment on his own life weighing on his shoulders.

The rain grew on intensity and Lionel tried to walk faster. It wasn’t pouring and he would probably arrive before his clothes were soaked, but walking fast helped him release some of his frustration. His hands were deep in his pockets and his eyes focused on the ground but his mind wasn’t in Buenos Aires. Lionel’s thoughts were far away in his family home. He was trying to remember the sound of the rain in the fields outside their small house and the sound of his brothers arguing about the prices of crops and meat. The image of the city of Rosario was burning in his mind and the sight of their little family land flashed in front of him every time he closed his eyes. He missed it. He missed the land he knew and the one he’d never seen. He missed everything.

Lionel was so far away that he didn’t notice the border of the street was already flooded with water. His left foot deeped in five centimetres of dirty water and Lionel cursed his bad luck. The cold crept on his leg until his whole body started to shake. He was still three blocks away and would have preferred to lay there and drown in the falling water than walking the rest of the way to the  _conventillo_.

He reached the avenue that was just two blocks away from the wretched building he lived in and raised his gaze to check for cars coming his way. His life was pathetic enough to be killed in a car crashed and left alone to rot in the rain. But the streets were empty except for those as unlucky as himself. Instead, Leo’s eyes found the illuminated windows of the Spanish tavern his neighbour had told him to go just the day before. He crossed the street with quick steps and remembered that his neighbour was called Di María and how relieved he’d felt to have found another Italian around. Even if he didn’t feel much of an Italian himself, brought to this country when he was barely three years old, he remembered well his mother’s advice: their _paisanos_ were the best companionship he could ever find.

The tavern was warm and deserted. Those were Lionel’s first thoughts when he stepped in (just in time because the sky started pouring outside as if was the end of the world). Looking around more carefully he noticed the place looked a bit like a restaurant, a bit like a grocer’s shop and very little like an actual tavern. But it was clean, dry and there was smell of food so he decided it was good enough. He walked to the counter in the back of the rectangular room and a young man of around his age came to greet him from a service door he hadn’t notice before. The man smiled so big Leo could have counted all his teeth and for some reason the gesture made him feel a little better.

“ _Buenas noches, veo que venís de pasear en el diluvio._ ” The man laughed and Leo used that time to piece the words together. He had found that  _porteños_  -even those who were Spaniards-  had their very singular way of speaking Spanish, making hard to understand them even if you knew the language. Lionel concluded that the man was talking about the rain outside and frowned a little to show him that it had been awful to be out there. “Would you like something to drink? You must be freezing. Maybe some whiskey or ron? We don’t have anything too pretentious but sometimes cheap alcohol is the best way to gain some temperature, right?

Lionel noticed that the man was a Spaniard indeed, or at least from a Spanish family. He spoke fast with a mixture of local words and some others from his homeland and the smile almost never left his lips. He poured some yellowish liquid on a relatively small glass and handed it to Leo without even making sure if he had money to pay for it.

“ _Grazie_ ”

The Italian word left Lionel’s lips before he could think about it. It was strange because he was more used to speaking in Spanish. But his mother tongue had been stronger than him, probably because he was being lulled by the warm environment and his tired muscles and exhausted mind were asking desperately for some rest. The young man looked even more surprised and his eyes opened so much Leo find impossible not to laugh a little.

“ _Pero si eres tano!”_  The man laughed loudly this time and a voice coming from the door behind the counter asked what was going on. “Nothing Gonzalo, just a client don’t worry!” The man looked back at Lionel and his lips inevitably formed another smile. Leo couldn’t understand what was so funny. “So you’re Italian… do you understand anything I am saying?”

“I can speak Spanish perfectly, thank you.” The amused look on the man’s face was starting to bother Leo. He took the small glass the man had poured before and drank the whole content in one long gulp. He could felt the liquid burning down his throat and the warm almost stinging feeling spreading on his stomach. His face must have shown this painful experience because the man was cackling even louder once again and this time Lionel found that it was a bit easier to laugh with him.

“Sorry, but you looked so lost when you arrived that I assumed you just didn’t understand the language. Want another?” The man filled the glass before Leo could even part his lips to answer. “My name’s Sergio, by the way. Sergio Agüero. Some people call me Kun, though.” Lionel shook his hand and raised his eyebrows to the mention of the nickname. Sergio just shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“Lionel Messi.” Leo drank the second glass and not a second after it was re filled again. “Aren’t you going to check if I can pay for those?”

“Courtesy of the house.” He smiled brightly once again and propped his elbows on the counter just in front of Leo.

Lionel got rid of his wet coat and took a sit on one of the tall stools and took a sip of the liquor trying to taste it this time. It was okay. Meanwhile Sergio was observing his every movement and Lionel found odd how he didn’t even felt intimidated. The rain outside kept pouring and the steady sound of the raindrops hitting the pavement and the windows was soothing. Leo thought that he could lay his face on the counter and fell asleep right then.

“You haven’t live in Buenos Aires for long, have you? Do you just get out of a ship or are you coming from another city?”

How Sergio could tell he wasn’t from Buenos Aires was beyond him. Leo took another sip and shook his head. “My family came from Italy with one of the first ships of emigrants. We settled in Rosario. I come from there.”

“And how’s life in the big city going, huh?”

Lionel wasn’t sure if it was because he was sleepy or because he finally felt safe or because Sergio’s eyes looked at him with a pain and a melancholy similar to his, but he started talking about his whole life. Every pathetic bit was displayed in front of the Spaniard for him to see and judge. Except Lionel was sure Sergio wasn’t going to judge. He had seen it in his eyes. The longing for that country of their parents that was supposed to be theirs but that felt foreign and distant. The familiarity of the country that had given them shelter for as long as they could remember but that neither dare to call theirs. The belonging and not belonging. And in the middle, their lives developing and their future hanging in front of them as an uncertain reality. Leo told Sergio about everything he hated or feared with the knowledge that he felt exactly the same.

The silence that followed was deep but in some way soothing. It didn’t hurt Leo’s ears but worked as an alleviation to his freshly opened wounds. Neither wanted to break it in fear of making disappear whatever bond they had just created between each other.

“Sergio? You’re still here  _hombre_? Thought you would have closed like an hour ago.” A tall man walked in and looked at Lionel with a confused look. “ _Buenas noches_ , my name’s Gonzalo” Then he placed his eyes on Sergio waiting for some explanation.

“Hey Gonza, this is Lionel Messi. He has just arrived from Rosario.” They shook hands and Lionel noticed the taller man’s gaze inspecting him and felt weirdly exposed.

“Italian, I guess.”

“Yes, and listen Gonza,  _el tano necesita laburo._  And I was thinking...” Lionel was looking at Sergio with wide eyes and an increasing blush on his cheeks. Gonzalo didn’t look as surprised, his arms immediately folded over his chest and a quizzical expression on his face. ”you told me the other day that we should find someone to work with us, especially for the rush hours. So what do you think? We could help him, right?”

Sergio threw a look at Lionel and he knew that the Spaniard wanted him to do something but he couldn’t understand what. He finally did what was only logical.

“Humm, Gonzalo... “ He cleared his throat and organized the words carefully in his mind so they would be appropriate and clear.  “I’d be very thankful if you let me work here. I could do whatever you need: wait tables, clean, go to the market in the mornings, anything.”

Gonzalo finally laughed a little clasped Lionel’s shoulder and told him that it was okay by him. Sergio smiled so much that one would tell someone had just told him he had inherited a fortune.

“Close everything before more people come here to beg for a job, Kun. I’m going to sleep. And Lionel, see you tomorrow morning. Six thirty the latest.” Gonzalo exited through the same door and Leo noticed that there were stairs leading to a second floor.

“Gonza lives upstairs.” Kun answered to Leo’s mute question. “This little building is his, or his family’s really. But his brothers are working in the Patagonia and his sister just moved to Mendoza because she married a _paisano_ of yours, owner of a winery.”

They looked at each other and Kun grinned. His eyes were shining and Leo couldn’t help smiling too.

“Thank you”

“No problem”

Lionel felt like he had arrived home for the first time in his life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Clarifications:
> 
> Conventillo: (in English "tenement") places were the poorer people in Buenos Aires lived, they were usually full of immigrants because they were cheap. They were buildings with lots of rooms that were rented by families or other people. The conditions of living were really bad and oftenly there were too many people living in each room. 
> 
> Paisanos: people from the same country.
> 
> "Veo que venís de pasear en el diluvio": (translation) I see that you've been hanging outside in the pouring rain.  
> Porteños: people that live in the City of Buenos Aires as opposed to those who live the countryside of Buenos Aires or in the rest of the country.
> 
> Tano: A short abbreviation for Italian.
> 
> Laburo: "Job" in lunfardo (the slang used in tango's lyrics)


End file.
